


let there be damage ensued and tabloid news - and that kind of love

by retromutagen



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Philadelphia Flyers, Season 18-19, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-06 11:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retromutagen/pseuds/retromutagen
Summary: Claude seems to only like him when they win.Nolan hasn’t been in the good books lately.or, Nolan touches the place where Claude’s hand was just a mere moment ago and doesn’t know if he is imagining the burn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, I'm a twenty-something dude and I have feelings about G and I need to project. Sorry Nolan. 
> 
> Absolutely if you need me to tag anything, tell me and I will. 
> 
> If you know or are any of the people mentioned, please back off now. This is pure fantasy, even if the timeline is based on the season 18-19.
> 
> Also if you have shit to say about 20yo/30yo relationships, believe me I know and have read them extensively somewhere else already. 
> 
> The rating is bound to change, at some point.
> 
> Should you notice mistakes, spelling or otherwise, please let me know. English is not my first language.
> 
> This is currently unfinished, as you can see. 
> 
> The title comes from Hozier's Dinner & Diatribes.
> 
> Anyway, here it is.
> 
> edit on 6/13/2019: im like working now and if im not working im sleeping so gimme like a minute, i am writing!  
> edit on 11/17/2019: i started feeling weird about this and now i don't want to continue it anymore (also im doing my master's thesis which is uhhh long so i'm busy)

one.

Claude seems to only like him when they win.

Nolan hasn’t been in the good books lately. 

Now, when they win – it’s so good. It is what Nolan imagined when he was still a kid only dreaming of being in the NHL. It’s an overwhelming feeling that both empowers and drives the team to keep the fire going. Nolan has got better at containing his excitement to the point that he thinks he comes off as passive almost, but there is only so much of unadulterated happiness that he is willing to let out in a room full of grown men, especially in his second year. Nevertheless, the locker room fills with joy when they exit the ice after a win, Claude seeing them off with a prideful smile and approriate cockiness from being a captain of a team that can Do That. He is animated in his expressions after, giving the team a speech to fuel the fire. 

He usually spends more time talking to Nolan than to the others after wins, a habit he picked up during his rookie year. First, he encouraged the other veterans to take care of him on the ice and after games, because Nolan doesn’t play on Claude’s line, but somehow Claude still talked to him after games, wanting to make sure Nolan knows he made good calls and that he is adapting to the team well. (Nolan thinks that might have been because of all the injuries he seemed to get, on top of him being new to the team. Claude just kept the one-on-ones going. Nolan liked them from the get-go.) His smiles are warm, and Nolan can’t help but smile back at him, reveling in the post-game high more openly, even if he lowers his gaze, feeling undeserving of praise, always feeling like he could do more. He wants to do his best for the team. Talks with Claude leave him feeling empowered and happy. In those moments between him and Claude, he feels at home in Philadelphia. 

Those moments have also become concerningly scarce. 

The start of the season has been rough. Their successes have been shaky at best; losses more devastating than usual. Close calls, losing leads in the third period, all that. Nolan tries not to dwell, but it gets hard, when they just keep losing and losing and losing. It gets tense in the locker room after the games. Simmer talks quietly but sharply to Jake. TK, Nolan notes, might as well be literally fuming with frustration as he yanks at his skates. Nolan keeps quiet. Provy, too, sits next to him, quietly stripping off his sweaty gear. Post-game cool downs ease them all into a mellow resentment. Except for Claude. 

He isn’t overt with his anger. He is respectful, neat and composed even when he is the one carrying the heaviest load of their losses. There is a sharpness to him. His eyes pierce each of them after every game, but determination overpowers any resentment that he might have, in the end, for the team. He talks to each of them individually, confidence vibrating in his low tone. He has been with these boys for a long time, so the respect he has for them is clear. He has encouraging smiles and pats on the back for everyone at the end. 

They don’t reach Nolan, for some reason. 

Claude talks to him too, obviously, but his gaze is different. Only a few words. It’s – off. Sad. Avoidant. Disappointed. Hopeless. Nolan can’t quite place it, but he doesn’t like it. Something changed over the summer, for sure. He has no idea what. Maybe his status as a sort-of veteran now has changed how Claude sees him. Right now, he feels like a failure under Claude’s gaze, because instead of smiles and pats on the back, he gets a grip on his arm for a good two seconds and that’s it. Claude moves on and leaves him be, goes on to chat with Simmers and Jake and the others. Maybe this is growing up in the NHL; you carry your own weight, stop leaning on others. 

They don’t really interact until the next game and for whatever moments they must share in preparation for it, but Nolan sees Claude watch him from the corner of his eye, follow him, eyes filled with something that leaves him feel insecure. It’s a drastic change from the warmth post-win. It’s a major change from last year, too. Claude was there, post-loss, talking to him with words of both encouragement and improvement. A one-on-one that ended always with a half a hug and a firm nod. What Nolan gets now is not even close to that. It’s uncomfortable. He tries not to let it affect him, but as the weeks progress, Nolan hopes for more wins, works his ass off to make them happen, but it is a team effort and they are not performing their best. Claude grows more distant as the games pass by. 

Nolan tries to be a good person. He wants to do right by everyone, to be worthy of the team and being trusted by his teammates, but he wants to extend that further from only being a good player. He wants his teammates to like him. It is probable that he is going to be with the Flyers for a couple of years more, meaning he needs to be a part of the group. He needs to be reliable and loyal. 

The situation with Claude, therefore, is quite inconvenient to him, especially since their wins are so rare now. Claude can’t, shouldn’t resent him – it’s not good for the team. It’s not good for Nolan. who hates the fact that the captain of his team, a man he looks up to on the ice and off the ice, doesn’t like him. But what can he do really? Talking to him directly seems excessive, since at times, Nolan feels like it’s all in his head. TK attested to that too, almost laughing when Nolan mumbled do you think G likes me on a rainy Thursday night, when they are playing video games at his apartment. TK is on Claude’s line, so he clearly opposes.

”Bro, what the fuck?”

”It’s just feels like, I don’t know.”

”You are in over your head. It’s G.”

He isn’t though. He is sure of it. The fact that TK hasn’t noticed anything just confirms more that the resentment is directed at Nolan only. After a humiliating loss to the Leafs on Toronto ice, Claude doesn’t talk to him at all. Just pats him on the arm and sighs. It almost feels more devastating the loss itself. His captain has lost faith in him. Second draft, first round. What a disappointment he is. Unable to produce and provide for his team. 

Nolan watches him go. It feels like the final nail on the coffin.

He knows to expect it after the loss to the Sens, which – God, it was bad. Losing a lead like that. They get crucified by the fans and the media both. Claude just breezes past him, to mutter under his breath to Jake. Nolan is angry, now even more so, but the locker room feels heavy in a way that he tries not to get bitter over it. Their captain is under more pressure than them, since, well he is the captain. The team is not performing well, but there is certain responsibility that comes with carrying the C. You take on some extra criticism, even if you are playing your best. There is also the fact that the captain is supposed to act like a glue to the team, keep their morale up. Right now, Nolan is not feeling it. 

Then Wayne, the A that he is, approaches him, instead. 

”Hey, man. You doing alright?” He grips Nolan’s shoulder. It’s a secure presence, definitely picking up what Claude had prominently dropped. 

Nolan sighs deeply, runs a hand through his sweaty, wet hair. ”Yeah, well, obviously you don’t really want that happening out there.”

”We have a lot of work to do.”

”Definitely. I – uh – I don’t really know what to say.”

”Your effort out there is a plus, dude. That needs to carry out to the future.” Simmonds finds his eyes, staring at him with determination. 

Nolan nods, biting his lips. 

”We will do better. We get better.” 

Nolan shrugs. His entire body feels sore, ready for sleep. ”Sort of feels like a fucking mess right now, two games of just, I don’t know, pure bullshit.”

”Yeah. What we need is a full sixty minutes of effort. We’ll get there.”  
Nolan agrees. It feels like a long shot, though, like the playoffs are out of question for sure. They just aren’t good enough. It kills him to think like that, and it is only November. If things don’t change, it means a year full of frustration and anger for the entire team. 

It means that Nolan is out of the group, if Claude doesn’t come around. He can’t handle that; it will ruin him. 

”Hey, Sims,” he starts rather quietly, fearing that someone else might be listening behind their backs. ”I, uh, I don’t –”

Wayne snorts. ”Spit it out. What’s up?”

”I don’t think G likes me.”

Again, that gets him a laugh, but once Wayne notices that Nolan is pretty serious about this, he grows serious. ”Why would you think that?”

”I don’t know.” Nolan feels insecure again, talking about the resentment their captain has for him. ”He just doesn’t talk to me like he used to. Or he doesn’t talk to me at all.”

Wayne looks contemplative, but also like he might know something about it. His eyebrows are arched just so. ”He likes us all just fine.”

”I feel like I’m failing him. I’m supposed to be better. He just has this look, that – I don’t know.”

Wayne stiffens then, posture visibly growing sterner. ”Hey,” he says firmly, ”all these losses are not on you. We are a team.”

”Yeah, but – ”

”G is under a lot of stress, but he definitely doesn’t hate you.”

Nolan probably knows this, but it’s still not okay. They need to be able to be civil with each other and productive for the team. There is not it gets better, if his captain can’t guide him, trust him. ”I just feel like it might need fixing, me and G.”

There’s a flash of a smile on Wayne’s face. ”Listen, just talk to him. If you’ve noticed something, he has, too. I’m sure you are just overthinking it.”

Wayne hasn’t felt the way Claude’s gaze feels on him though. The hopelessness, or whatever it is. It terrifies Nolan. It makes him fear for the team. Maybe Claude’s lost hope for the for the season. It sounds ridiculous, but what if, you know. But no one else seems to have picked up on the way the captain acts towards him. He feels self-centered to think that Claude has a problem with him, personally. he feels selfish for not knowing which he fears more, that Claude has lost hope for the team all together, or that he has lost hope for Nolan. He thinks, the team should always come first, right? 

But Claude has a lot of influence. He might have a hand in Nolan’s future, and what kind of future will that be if he has decided to dislike him. Everything seems a bit up in the air, when he doesn’t know what he did wrong to earn Claude’s resentment. If he is being honest with himself, he hasn’t even been playing that badly. He has been doing alright, even if the team has not (a thing everyone fears saying, or even thinking).

”Yeah, maybe.” The locker room is starting to clear out, people coming out of the shower, throwing on some clean clothes and heading out. Next game isn’t until Saturday. ”Maybe after the next game.”

Wayne nods and leaves him be. 

Practices in-between games go as they should. Nolan tags along with TK, convenience in living so close together. The team has their routine, and they know they have got the skill needed to be elite. It just doesn’t translate to the games. It is visible in the practice as well; last year they had almost child-like passion even on practice ice, but now the entire organization feels shaky. There are firings and rumors about more firings, yet the team has to focus on the up-coming games and try to push aside the bureaucracy, even though it will eventually affect their practice. Claude remains a strong presence that keeps them focused on their play. His determination seeps through to them, fuels them for every sweep of skate. Nolan doesn’t try to approach him, just listens to their coaches, works with his teammates and does his most and leaves practice feeling good, despite the Situation. 

Saturday comes, and they are up against the Pens on guest ice. No one wants to admit it but coming to Pittsburgh as the mess that they are, weighs them down. There is definite covert fear in the locker room as they gear up for the game. It’s anxiety. They need a win. Nolan prays silently for a win; in here especially, it means so much to them as a team, but also for the organization and their entire brand. 

After the puck drop it’s hectic. Crosby scores less than a minute in. Simmonds fights five mintues in. Then they score. What a fucking start. Second period finds them at a tie, too. It’s a struggle but they hold their own. Claude almost yells at them during the break; it’s not anger but a type of firmness that they need to keep going, to skate past the Pens. 

”Let’s get the fuck out there and bring this home, okay boys?”

They agree in unison. Claude’s eyes breeze past Nolan, but it doesn’t matter now. They need to win.

Third period rolls around and they are head to head battling for the puck. Stolarz does his best in the net and keeps them at even, until they go on the PK. They are short-handed, and Nolan already fears for the worst. Pens have a chance to finish this game (comeback even from a one-goal trail seems impossible these days).

But then. Weise gets a breakaway and a perfect pass from Laughton. They score. They have a lead. There is a wave of relief on the bench. On top of that, there is careful excitement, but they need to play the last ten minutes perfectly to keep the lead and take the win. Last two minutes of the game, Pens play with an empty net; Flyers score and cement their win. It’s a good feeling. They need it. Nolan’s minutes on the ice have been up and down the past few games, but this one was an okay game for him. He has a lot of work to do, for sure.

Claude is firm in his post-game speech, making sure that they know that this is what needs to happend all the time, but they must be even better to climb up again. He gives the Helmet to Simmods; his effect on the game was crucial. 

He does not talk to Nolan. It’s deliberate, his ignorance. He looks at Nolan and decidedly turns his stride to other players, leaves Nolan be. 

He sits there in stunned silence, until TK nudges him to get a move on. His movements are slow as he strips and showers. He risks a look at Claude after he gets out, but Claude isn’t looking back, in fact he is very occupied with his gear. Nolan notices Wayne looking at him; the man nods towards Claude direction.

Nolan sighs, finishes getting ready and then approaches Claude. 

He keeps his distance, doesn’t touch. ”Hey,” he starts, and Claude turns. 

”Hey, man. Good game,” Claude says. 

”Yeah, good game,” Nolan agrees but he is determinate to get this over with as fast as possible. ”Listen, can we talk?” 

Claude scouts around the room, and then shakes his head yes. ”Wait ’til everyone’s out.”

Nolan nods and goes back to his bench. TK shoots him a questioning look, but Nolan just shakes his head. He scrolls through Instagram, trying not to just stare at the rest of the team clearing out or overthink what the up-coming talk is going to be like. He doesn’t even know what he is going to say. How do you begin a conversation like this? 

Wayne leaves, slapping him on the shoulder encouragingly as he passes him. And then it’s just them. On the opposite sides of the locker room. Claude seems to make a note of this and takes the few strides he needs to get to Nolan. He sits down, tense.

”Right, we got a couple of minutes before we have to go,” he says and crosses his arms. 

Nolan is at a loss, feeling incredibly young just then, which is why he jsut blurts out: ”Are we okay?”

Claude looks a bit perplexed. ”Uh, yes?”

”Doesn’t seem like it.”

”Listen, kid –”

Nolan can’t have none of that, and once he has opened his mouth he might as well go for it. ”Don’t patronize me. Something is clearly going on.”

Claude opens his mouth, obviously trying to, at first, come up with a defence, but then just sigh and leans back. 

”I’m sorry I haven’t been playing well, but like, don’t just disregard me. I’m not exactly hopeless.”

Claude suddenly laughs. ”Of course you are not. You are doing okay.”

Nolan sit back. ”Then why are you like this? We need to be able to work together, man.”

Claude shakes his head, an odd smile on his head. ”And we are.”

Taken aback, Nolan breathes sharply. ”No, we obviously aren’t. You keep avoiding me, and, to be fucking honest, I feel kind of left out.”

“Shit, Patrick.” Claude looks confused, but it turns into something resembling regret quickly. “I – am sorry that I’ve made you feel that way, but you’ve got to know it’s not about – ”

“If you say it’s not about me, I will deck you.”

Claude unfolds his arms and brushed them through his hair, sighing deeply. He shakes his head, “I mean it is about you, but not in a way how you think it might be.”

“Right.”

“You are a good player and a good teammate.” Claude looks at him, head slightly tilted. The lines on his face have softened since he first sat down. 

Nolan just watches him, waits for him to continue.

Claude opens his mouth, closes it, licks his lips and then just oddly shrugs. “I honestly just wish we could be better, for you.”

That surprises Nolan. “What.”

“I know how it is being high-drafted, having high hopes and all that. You have a lot of promise, have had since day one. This team is just – disappointing. It is your second year and it should be kind of like the best, but we are last in the Conference getting our asses handed to us almost every game.”

Wait. “You think, what, that I’m too good for this organization?” 

Claude’s face makes an odd expression, but he nods kind of vaguely. “Yeah. More often than not I think you could do a lot better somewhere else, be the star that you were supposed to be from the start.”

Nolan takes a deep breath, lungs filling and changing his entire posture. He buries his face in his hands. “This is – not what I expected at all.”

“What did you think was the problem?” Claude leans on his knees, angling himself towards Nolan, watching him in his elevated position. 

Nolan peeks from between his fingers. His words sound muffled under his hands. “I though you didn’t like me. Thought you were going to campaign to ship me off.”

Claude snorts. “You would be better off somewhere else. I don’t know, fucking New Jersey.”

Nolan gives him a look and fixes his posture with a sigh of relief. “Not funny. I’m all good here.”

Claude nods. “Good. I’m glad you feel like that.”

“Last year was good, this year will be good, too.”

“We will turn this shit around, for sure.”

Nolan nods in agreement. Claude leans back on the bench. It feels like they are somehow closer now, both physically and mentally. There’s not much space between them.

“I can’t believe you actually thought I didn’t like you. You are a – a good player, Nolan,” Claude says. Nolan rolls his eyes. 

“The way you acted… Didn’t seem that far-fetched.”

Then, carefully and almost insecurely, Claude puts his hand next to Nolan’s jean-clad knee. “I like you just fine.”

The hand lingers between them. Nolan counts seconds as he gazes at Claude looking at him, until looks at the hand and Claude pulls it away. 

“Right. I’m glad that’s settled,” he stands up and strides away to grab his stuff. “We need to go. See you out there.”

Nolan touches the place where Claude’s hand was just a mere moment ago and doesn’t know if he is imagining the burn. 

***

Needless to say, Nolan feels quite something else after that. 

He is not stupid. He is twenty. He knows what the anxiety is. He obsesses over it for the entire weekend. They don’t have a game until the next Thursday. Two morning practices in-between. His heart throbs at the thought of seeing Claude again, and – and it’s all very new to him, in this setting, in this period of his life. 

He wonders if Claude wanted to put his hand on his knee. Wonders why he didn’t. Claude can’t – no, it sounds ridiculous. Nolan has trouble sleeping and focusing during the days leading up to the Monday practice. 

His hands shake as he tries to pick up sushi with his chopsticks. He drops a piece right into the soy and it splashes. TK laughs. 

“You forget how to eat?”

“Shut up.” Nolan picks up the soaked maki and stuffs it in his faces. It’s the best sushi in town, but he feels dissociated from the taste of it. He hasn’t even noticed the loud chatter in the restaurant until now. 

“Are you ok, dude? You seem like you aren’t, like, here.”

Nolan takes a long drink from his water. “Right, yeah. Sorry. Just, I got a lot on my mind.”

“Uh-huh. Want to talk about it?”

Nolan considers this. How mad would he sound, suggesting something so out-there to TK about their captain, about himself? 

TK probably wouldn’t judge, but Nolan isn’t quite sure what exactly he would be proposing, so he decides that maybe now is not the time. 

“Nah, no, forget it.”

“Is it about G? You were asking about him a while ago.”

Right. Travis is not a total dumbass, Nolan forgets. “Yeah, that got settled. It’s, uh, not about that anymore.”

TK rolls his eyes, snorts. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m here.”

“Thanks.”

Travis eyes him under his brows for a moment, and then he focuses on his food again. Nolan feels like a bad friend, but it’s not like he can just blurt out what he is thinking. It seems unreal, and the more he thinks about it, the more convinced he becomes that he is just insane, imagining it. There is so many fucked up aspects of the situation, so now – he feels terrified.

But. 

His heart is beating at the thought of it. It’s hard to tell, if he likes the attention or if there really is something there. Claude is – something else. His captain. A mentor. Ten years older. A good-looking man. A body to die for. Funny. A loyal friend. 

Nolan can’t deny that he has had some less than pure thoughts about most of his teammates, mostly in dreams, kind of unwillingly, kind of out of nowhere. It comes with the profession and being young. Claude has shown up in his dreams, too, from time to time, but he has always pushed those thoughts far back in his mind, holding on to an old promise to never get involved with any teammates. It’s never really been an opportunity anyway, so. Unreal. 

He feels a pull anyway. It’s hard to resist letting it take over. 

See, liking a variety of people has never been a problem to Nolan. He rarely gets crushes, and when he does, they don’t last long. They come and go. Nothing really sticks to Nolan. So, he usually is not particularly worried about developing feelings for people, which then extends to his teammates. They are just guys he works with, likes well enough as people. They are fine.

This attraction to Claude, though, it feels different. It is sudden and stuck on him. He can’t quite place why. It’s so unfamiliar. Interesting. But in the end – 

a reach. 

It was just a hand. Near him, not even touching.

He pushes the thoughts out of his mind, trying not to feel the burn. The weekend has brushed past in an obsessive haze, and he needs to keep his head clear. The sushi doesn’t really taste like anything, but he eats it anyway. TK drives him home, chatting his mouth off about his plans for the night. 

***

Practice next morning is – okay. It is. The team has a lot of energy, and Nolan feels grounded again, after dissociating the weekend in his thoughts. He mostly got over his – well, he calls it a freak-out in his mind. The entire end of last week was weird, full of things that apparently always end up piling up and overwhelming him, instead of being trickled down throughout the year. He sees Claude and it feels normal, to an extent. Something happened, but he is back to status quo. Or at least he wills himself to think so. The two hours go by and then they are out. The locker room after feels mellow and satisfied. 

Nolan is almost out of the door, but someone catches his arm. He knows who immediately. He feels the burn.

“Hey, wait,” Claude says. “I just wanted to make sure we are okay. Last week, it was weird.”

Nolan raises his eyebrows. “No, yeah, it’s fine. Today was good.”

Claude chuckles lowly, brushes a hand through his wet curly hair and shifts balance from one foot to the other. “It was, yeah. So, I wanted to ask. I don’t know if this is kind of, uncomfortable, but,” he takes a sharp breath. Nolan holds his. “Do you want us to, uh, continue our talks. You mentioned them last week.”

Oh. “I mean, yeah. I just kind of assumed we –”

“We don’t have to, if you –”

“No, I would like that. They were helpful before.”

Claude smiles, flashing teeth. Nolan thinks about the gap that used to be there, he has seen it in photos. “Great okay.”

Something possesses Nolan; the feelings from the weekend float right back in, and it makes him brave the rational thoughts trying to end the conversation there. “Are you doing anything right now?” he asks. His heart is hammering in his chest, from zero to sixty in a flash. 

Surprise is clear on Claude’s face. Nolan braves himself for rejection but gets a “Not really. Planned on getting lunch.” instead. 

He clears his throat, asks his heart to calm down but it refuses. “Thought we could go over the last few games. I’d like to hear your thoughts.” Nolan’s grip on his bag gets tighter as his heart beats so loud he thinks, for a moment, that Claude can hear it.

Claude doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, sure. Did you drive here?”

He didn’t, so after Claude is done for the day, they head out together to grab food from a team-favorite restaurant just a few miles down the road. They take it to-go, and Claude decides Nolan’s apartment is closer. The drive is silent, and it’s difficult to keep up the brave spirit he had in the locker room. Every mile closer to his house strips some of his confidence away, and once they are on his doorstep, he doesn’t know what he is trying to achieve. 

He opens the door and directs them to the kitchen, to sit on some stools at the bar table. 

Claude looks around the space. The bare walls and mostly empty shelves. “You look like you haven’t even moved in.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Claude snorts. “It’s been a year.” He starts unpacking his food. Spicy bean and beat root salad. It looks earthy. Nolan gets them some plates and utensils and two water bottles.

“It was a busy year.” He shovels some sweet potato and lentils on his plate. “It’s not like I spend a ton of time here.”

“It’s nice to come home to a comfortable place, though.” 

Nolan shrugs. “I guess. I hang out at TK’s a lot. Being on my own is kind of boring.”

“I get that.”

Then, for a moment, they eat in silence, sitting side by side on the stools. Claude’s presence is comfortable. It feels like the wall that was there from the beginning of the season is gone, and they are back to – or not back to, but they are at something right now. Claude’s never been in Nolan’s most personal spaces, yet here he is, in his apartment, for post-game talks that they missed in October and November. 

Right.

“My time on ice has been down for the last month,” he says. 

Claude nods. “We’ve had to rely on veterans.”

“Hasn’t really helped so far. Some of the goals are just, I don’t know, luck maybe. I’d like to produce more.”

Claude hums, staring at his food contemplatively. “You skate well. You are probably most consistent with your place in front of the net. That’s where we need you.”

Nolan swallows tightly. He knows some of his goals have been quite unbelievable. Quick jabs at the net and the puck is in. Most guys on the team, though, are more visible in their achievements. Compared to them, he feels useless. A filler, that provides just enough power that he keeps his place on the roster. 

“It’s only your second year. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“The team needs young skaters like you and TK. Lindblom is a great addition. We seem like old men out there at times.” Nolan snorts. Claude has a grin on his face as he stabs at his beets. 

“Yeah, no doubt that we are a better branding than your old face,” Nolan chirps, but Claude only rolls his eyes. 

“I get the respect. You get the fans in. It’s a fair deal.”

“What – you calling me good-looking, G?” Nolan arches his brow.

“It’s good for the team,” Claude emphasizes again, gaze boring into his food. Nolan feels the table shake as Claude’s leg bounces. “Fresh faces.”

“Right.”

Then they eat in silence again. Claude’s leg keeps bouncing. Nolan notes that this is not their usual talk. Something has changed. 

“How’s TK? You mentioned spending a lot of time with him,” Claude asks then.

“Yeah, he’s a good friend. We live close. We hang.”

“Anyone else?”

What a weird question. Nolan hesitates. “I mean, yeah. We hang with the rest of the boys, too. Lindblom’s there most of the time. Provy comes at times, but he’s with his girl most of the days.”

Claude looks somehow unsatisfied with the answer but doesn’t elaborate. “That’s good. It’s good to have people.”

“You hung out a lot with Brière, right?” Nolan knows this. He met Brière during his first year in the NHL, and the dude seemed nice. Somehow older now that he is out of the game. There is a certain youth that sticks to being a hockey player. That’s also why most careers in the NHL are rather short. Nolan wants to try to make to Chara’s level. 

Claude looks a bit stressed having heard Brière’s name. “Yeah, lived with him actually. He is a good friend.”

“I remember. Or, heard, I guess. They, um, people thought it was good for him to take you under is wing.” It sounds like a question, because Nolan doesn’t want to presume to know anything about their relationship or the background of it. It seems too private, and he thinks this is why Claude looks a bit uncomfortable. 

“Danny is a good friend,” Claude says again. 

“I remember hearing some shit about him being like a father to you, what with being a dad and all.”

Claude chokes suddenly, coughing quickly and taking a sip of his water. “Oh, no. He definitely was not a dad to me.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about. I mean, ten years is a lot of time, it’s true. Might sound weird to some.”

“Kind of like you and me.”

Claude leans back, carefully puts his water bottle on the table. “How?”

“The age thing. I’m younger. We hang out.” Nolan doesn’t really feel that much younger. The league tends to knit those differences tight. There’s less experience and then there’s more experience.

Claude is still for a small moment but nods then. He brushes a hand through his hair. “Is this weird to you?”

“I think I got past the point of it being weird. We are on the same team. You’re the captain. It feels normal really, like a normal thing.” 

“So, it’s not, like, crossing a boundary.”

What. “No, of course not.” Nolan is a bit perplexed. The conversation is really not helping his mess of thoughts. He feels the burn again. The ghost of a warm hand. He wonders again, if it was not just his imagination. Claude seems guarded, though. Nolan wonders if he should feel, too, but mostly he is just. So fucking intrigued. Attracted. Ready to cross a boundary, if the opportunity rises. 

It scares him, that he is feeling like this. It’s a new experience in a sense that he hasn’t ever entertained a thought about a person ten years older than him, and the moment he let’s himself think about it, he is bombarded with judgment in his mind. As much as Nolan would like to welcome the feeling of being attracted to Claude, the idea gets overwhelmed by thoughts of it being wrong, immoral, dangerous and exploitative. He can almost hear his mother getting angry, if she knew that he was open to it. 

Because he is, he realizes suddenly. Claude is a warm presence, good-looking and caring. Nolan finds solace in his company; a thing he lacks with his peers, because at times he feels so old compared to them. Not up-to-date. Ready to just fish and live in cabin – and play some hockey. He knows his age, knows his feelings on the matter don’t change the reality, that there might be some questionable aspects in his attraction. But he has thought about his sexuality a lot during his teenage years; he had to since he discovered it wasn’t as simple as everyone made it out to be. He had a lot to figure out. So, he feels prepared, somehow, even if this is quite nothing like anything else before.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Claude says then with so much earnest and – fear, Nolan notices.

“I don’t, never with you, man.” Nolan says and is sure that he truly feels so. The insecurity he seems to feel is not exactly coming from inside but outside. But like. Fuck everyone else, right? 

“That’s good,” Claude says, half, sighing, “good to hear.”

They finish their meals and resume back to team talk. They focus more on the other teams and the challenge the start of the season has been. Then they wander off into different things, talking about summer that’s long gone now. 

Claude leaves an hour later. Nolan doesn’t see him off at the door, fearing that he might get a surge of courage and try do something idiotic. But after Claude bids him goodbye and closes the door, his heart doesn’t stop throbbing until he falls asleep later that night. (Even then it does not ease. He dreams in vivid colours.) 

***

Claude shoots him a message the next afternoon, offering to drive him to practice. Claude’s house is miles away and it’s not that ecological, but Nolan agrees anyway (TK doesn’t ask when he cancels their routine). They don’t chat much, enjoying being comfortably tired and gearing their minds towards the day’s training. It’s not the first time Claude’s driven with him, a thing that happened quite often during the first half of his rookie year as a bonding experience, so they have a known past routine going on, a silent agreement to abide by it for now between them. Practice goes okay again. Somewhere in their defense-offense plans, they’ve identified some weaknesses which they hope to cover in the games. There is a general feeling of enthusiasm about Thursday’s game. Nolan hopes that carries through. They’ll do their best, aim to play a full sixty minutes again and gain the upper hand early in the game.

Claude asks him to lunch again, but this time they agree to bring Coots, Jake and Lindblom with them. They tag a long, arriving a little later than him and Claude. They eat at the restaurant; the table is full of drinks, yellow rice, stir-fried vegetables and some lean meat on the side. Nolan focuses on his vegetables and beans, mixing them with some avocado and spinach, as the others talk about Lindblom’s financial investments. He wants to get a new car. Nolan really doesn’t give a shit what he does with his money, but Claude and others have some thoughts, apparently. Nolan tunes most of it out. It’s a good lunch.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Nolan asks when Claude is driving him home. 

“It can be.”

“You don’t feel, like, you have to repay me or something?” 

Claude snorts. “Nah, I don’t dwell on shit. New season, new routines, right? We might as well get something else out of this.” He gestures generally between them. 

Nolan contemplates it for a short moment. “I guess.” It’s a drastic change from the couple minutes of talk after games. They are actually spending time together now. Nolan’s heart beats heavily. He tries to keep it contained. Claude is a good captain. It should probably stay as only that. He’s just not sure if he can handle it only staying as that. 

Claude is still glowing with summer, probably a feat of having ginger genes, but it looks good on him. Nolan rarely thinks about the fact that Claude is smaller than him, because he carries his body well, has posture and attitude that Nolan would like to learn. His arms look good grabbing the wheel. Nolan would like to touch him, see if his skin would burn. 

He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at Claude’s side profile until he asks: “You ok?”

Nolan snaps out of it immediately and hums agreeingly.

“You can always say no, okay?” Claude says which –

Nolan snorts. “That’s a weird fucking thing to say. You are not crossing a boundary, dude.”

Claude backs off but he seems taken aback. “Okay, okay.”

“I don’t understand why you are so worried all the time. It’s annoying.”

“Oh wow, tell me how you really feel.”

Nolan gets ready to do exactly that. “Listen –”

But Claude cuts him off. “I get it, I really do. I just – want to be careful I guess. It’s your team now and I need you to feel comfortable, like in every way.”

“Well, I’ll let you know, if something changes.”

“Good. If you have any problems.”

Nolan agrees. “I like Philly. You make it feel like home.” He doesn’t exactly plan on it coming out like that, sounding too honest. Claude is silent for a long moment, until he says:

“It’s a good team.”

Nolan knows he thinks he meant the entire team. In a certain sense he did, but Claude plays a huge role in it for him, especially now, but he is willing to let it slide. Claude seems to be holding on to his guard and he is fine with that, even if Nolan would like him to say something, do something, be direct. None of this – whatever it is, caution. It is probably for the best, though, no matter Nolan’s feelings.

He gets home and takes a nap. 

***

On Wednesday morning, skate is optional, so Nolan only goes in for training with Travis. TK apparently spent the last night playing Call of Duty, and he has a lot of meaningless stories from the matches. He complains about nine-year-olds. Nolan generally stays away from online matches, rather plays with a friend group, but he listens as Teeks chatters away. At some point he agrees to come to TK’s after training to play and hang out, which, he guesses, he owes him after having ditched him for the past few days. Nolan’s been in his head mostly, or with Claude. He needs to spend time with real friends, keep his feet on the ground, instead of dreaming about things that will not and should not happen. 

They order sushi again – a tradition between them – when they get to TK’s apartment. He has been much more meticulous about furnishing and decorating his apartment, different types of sports and music merch on the walls, pictures of friend and family on the shelves. His carpets are really nice and fluffy. Nolan should take some notes. 

Despite being new, the couch already has some familiar dents on it, and Nolan takes a seat in his corner. Their food is on the coffee table. TK flops down rather aggressively on the couch, tired body looking like it is giving up for the day. He starts browsing through channels to find something for them to watch while they eat. 

TK decides on Storage Wars, daytime TV always being the disappointment that it is. Nolan doesn’t mind, just focuses on his avocado and tofu makis. TK devours his food, commenting, at times, the show.

It gives Nolan ample time to space out and not think about anything for a while.

It doesn’t last very long. He gets through half of his sushi, when TK seems to have had enough of Storage Wars. 

“So, what’s up?” he asks and Nolan just shrugs. “With you. You’ve been away.”

“What, I’ve been here.”

“We haven’t hung out for ages.”

“It’s been like a weekend, Teeks.”

Travis looks at him pointedly. “I know you get lost somewhere in there most days in general,” he gestures towards Nolan’s head with his hand, “but I presume you to be aware enough to know that we hang out like every day.”

Nolan hums. “We do not.”

“Uh, yeah, we do? It’s almost unhealthy really. Oskar gives me shit about it all the time.”

Well. Nolan can’t disagree. They are together most days. The days just blur together a bit with all the traveling and games. And now Nolan’s been basically unreachable for over a weekend. Obviously TK’s bound to wonder. Nolan wonders if he should get more friends. 

“So, what’s up? You are not depressed, are you?” TK’s bluntness is always surprising. 

Nolan denies it immediately. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Well, you aren’t with me so either you are holing up all alone being a depressed bitch or –”

“Or?”

TK smirks. “Who is it?”

Nolan’s eyes widen. “What. No one. There’s no one.”

Travis raises his brows. “You’ve been alone?”

“…No.”

“So, who is it?”

Nolan hesitates. He could unload all his thoughts, but it’s a risk. Both TK and Claude are his teammates, so there’s more at risk than just mild embarrassment. Nolan feels sudden flashes of immorality. 

They work together. 

But they are also friends. He trusts TK. 

“There isn’t anyone –” he begins. 

“Liar.”

“But I think I’m into Claude.”

TK is scarily still for a moment. But only for a moment. “What! G? Really?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Since when, dude? You are like, I don’t know, never interested in anyone and now our fucking captain.”

Nolan sighs. “I know, but. Something just happened and. Well, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

TK’s eyes widen almost comically. He puts his empty sushi platter on the coffee table quickly. “Something happened?” He seems to realize something, taking a quick breath. “Wait, on Thursday? Pat, did you fuck our captain?”

“No! Nothing like that, he just. I don’t know. Almost touched my knee.”

TK’s laugh is immediate and long, until he realizes Nolan is not joking. “That’s it? Dude, is this the 1800s or something.”

“I know how it sounds but you weren’t there. You didn’t hear what he said about making sure I’m fucking comfortable at all times and shit.” Nolan puts his plate carefully down on the table, sushi yet again tasting like nothing. He imagines the burn of the wood again. “And now I’m just – thinking about him all the time.” TK looks at him contemplatively. “I know how it sounds. I can’t really help it, anymore. It’s just a thing.”

TK nods. Nolan feels vulnerable under his gaze now, feels the need to fiddle with something so he starts pulling his hoodie strings. 

“It was just weird, I guess. He talked a lot about not crossing a boundary. I seriously don’t know what to think, because he is, well, him.”

“Maybe he was just being a good captain.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling myself. I keep convincing myself that it’s not, like, real, but.”

“There’s a vibe,” TK finishes for him.

“Yeah.”

“Shit, Pat.” He reaches out and pats Nolan on the arm, an awkward gesture with the distance between them, but Nolan appreciates it anyway.

And like the practical asshole that TK is, he asks: “Well, have you talked to him, then?”

“About this? No, why would I?”

“It’s our captain, dude. Can’t have you pining during practice and games. It’ll fuck us up even more.”

“I can separate this, this thing, from our job, thanks.”

Tk snorts and shrugs like duh. “I know that. But I need you feeling good, dude. You don’t seem all here now.”

“It’s just been a lot. The whole season has been kind of off since G hasn’t talked to me like he used to last year.”

“Is that what you settled on Thursday, too?”

“Yeah, he was just worried that the organization was letting me down.”

“Weird way to resolve it.”

“I think he has a problem with, I don’t know, expressing his feelings. He feels so guarded around me.”

“Probably because he wants to bone you.”

Nolan leans back, neck craining against the couch. Voice tight, he grits: “Please don’t say that.”

TK’s smile is suggestive. “You never know. I think you should talk to him.”

It sounds like a reach. “I think I’m just going to see what happens.”

Travis sighs. “Whatever, dude. I’m here for you.”

Nolan breathes a thanks. He can’t afford to build hope at the moment. They need wins. 

***

The game against Blue Jackets is not terrible. They take one point from pushing the game into OT, but it took only a couple of seconds for them to lose. It’s annoying, for sure, but it means they are not hopeless.

Nolan would like to score. It has been bugging him for a while, obviously, but everytime a game goes by without a goal under his wing, it eats at him more. Droughts strip away self-confidence fast, and it’s a key aspect on being able to score. If you don’t think the puck will go in, it probably won’t. He is beginning to think it won’t. It makes him bittersweetly glad that the team does not depend on his goals. On the regular, TK is ticking them in which is keeping them on the boards. Claude is racking assists every game. Sanheim proved to be a savior this Thursday. 

He is quiet in the locker room after the game, more so than usual, which makes TK shoot somewhat concerned looks in his way. 

“You want to come back to my place and play?” he asks, bumping his knuckles against Nolan’s shoulder. Nolan is about to say yes, but Claude approaches them. 

“You good?” he checks on them both, but his gaze is fixed on Nolan. TK hums an affirmative, Nolan doesn’t bother elaborating on it, just looks up to him from where he is sitting. Claude looks concerned but sympathetic. “Come to me, if you need anything, ok?” Nolan nods. 

“Thanks, G”, TK says pointedly as Claude walks away. “Damn, it’s like I wasn’t even here.”

“You are doing fine out there, dude.”

Travis snorts. “Yeah, sure. That was only about your play, got it.”

“Shut up. Let’s go.”

They play until it gets too late and Nolan ends up staying over. In the morning, he wakes up to a phone call. 

It’s Claude. 

No one ever calls Nolan, so he hesitates to answer just out of sheer routine. Moreover, he doesn’t understand why Claude is calling him; he has never done it before. After a quick look around the living room, Nolan notes TK is not awake yet, so he answers the phone.

“Hey,” he keeps his voice low. 

“Hey, man. How are you?” Claude’s voice sounds a little rougher in the morning, a thing Nolan has noticed during early practices. It sounds more intimate on the phone.

“Uh, yeah, good. What’s up?”

He hesitates. “I just wanted to ask you, if you wanted to get like breakfast or brunch or something?” The “with me” is clear even without saying. To say Nolan is surprised, would be an understatement. 

“Uh, I mean – yeah?”

“You can say no.”

“No, I want to. When?” Nolan springs up on the couch-turned-bed.

Claude breathes an awkward laugh. “I’m sort of, at your door?”

Blood rushes in Nolan’s ears. “Oh, shit. I’m at TK’s”

“Ah, oh, I can come back, when you are back? It’s –”

“I’ll be there in a second. He lives downstairs from mine.”

“Right.”

“Okay,” Nolan says and hangs up. He scrambles away from his sheet and pulls on his jeans and shirt. Then he strides to TK’s room, opening the door a little too violently, which immediately wakes the man up. 

“’The fuck, dude.”

“I’m going, Claude’s upstrais.”

“What. Wait, we have a road trip.” TK is almost about to get up, but Nolan is in a hurry.

“I’m sure he knows that. I’ll see you later.” He then leaves hearing TK shout something along the lines of "get it, boy" on his way out. He takes the stairs, stepping over two at a time, but once he gets to the hall, he slows down and wills his heart to settle down. He sees Claude. 

After a quick hey, he just let’s them in. Claude is looking fresh in a clean shirt and a soft-looking coat. Nolan feels underdressed, which, right. 

“I’ll just change, and we can go.” Claude hums an agreement and sits down on one of the stools in the open kitchen. Nolan hurries into his bedroom and thinks twice what to wear, which is rare in his case. But when he exits his bedroom, he tries to look collected in just a regular pair of blue jeans and a nice sweatshirt. 

Claude lifts his gaze up from his phone. “You ready?” Nolan nods and he grabs a coat on their way out. They are silent until the doors of the elevator close. Claude is keeping his gaze somewhere on the floor. The air feels tight, not uncomfortably so, but more like it is trying to find a place where to settle. Somehow Nolan found his way to the furthest corner away from Claude. His heart feels so warm. 

“I know this is kind of out of nowhere, but I just wanted to see you,” Claude says and then hesitates visibly and adds, “the game yesterday wasn’t the best one still, so.”

“Right.” Nolan really does not know what to say. It sounds like an excuse, but he is also aware of his own hopes just skewing his feelings. “Hockey talk over brunch?” Claude lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. He seems amused. 

“Well, if you want that, but it can be something else. I don’t want to – alienate you again.”

Nolan hums. “Me and Teeks never really talk about hockey outside the rink.”

Claude considers this. His voice is low, when he says: “We can keep hockey talk in the rink, too.” 

It sounds like an unsure invitation, and Nolan is ready to accept it. “Sure,” he says. “You have a place in mind?”

“There’s this hole-in-the-wall café that’s pretty good. It’s quite a drive, but worth it.”

Nolan snorts. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I thought we could hang out a bit. Relax before we have to go.”

Nolan can’t function with uncertainty, and the fact that Claude doesn’t really know what is going on either is bugging him. The elevator dings at the ground floor and the doors open, but neither of them moves. 

“This entire season has been weird.” He doesn’t mean to sound so serious, but his career relies on stability and consistency, which he hasn’t really been getting from Claude. He doesn’t think it has any true effect on the way they’ve been performing, but it certainly is not helping. His attraction to Claude he can manage one way or the other, but he needs to know which way it actually is going. Now it definitely has taken a turn again.

“I know.”

“This is so out of place.”

“I’m sorry about this season. I‘ll do better. I want to get to know you more, to be honest.” Claude leans against the wall. The doors ding close again. “I did already during last year, but it was your first season and the team came first, so I made a call then. Then this season started, and it’s been fucked, and I didn’t really know what to do.” 

It’s too honest, and Nolan can see that in Claude’s eyes. He looks like he might explode any second, because he has revealed too much. Nolan is ready to wrap this up, too. “Brunch, then.”

Claude looks relieved. “Right.” He grins just a little and Nolan smiles back just a little.

They exit to the garage level and Claude drives them to the café. It takes a while to get into the flow of talking with Claude now that there aren’t really barriers of professionality between them. Nolan was good at keeping up a boundary, does it with most of his teammates, co-workers that some of them – not all of them – are. With Claude, keeping that distance was easy; the space between them was easy to fill with hockey and status, limit his adoration on the skills and experience he has. 

And age, Nolan thinks, since there is ten years between them, even if it doesn’t really feel like that. Nolan doesn’t really know how the difference is supposed to feel like, other than maybe Claude is better at life in general, already owning a house and probably investing wealth or some shit. But Nolan is getting into that, too. It comes with a high-paying profession; he’s already been looking into both of those. He can’t really relate to the problems or challenges his friends back home have now. Some of them are in professional sports, too, but most of them are in university or working regular jobs. They are still tied to their parents, struggling to make rent, hold a job or have a social life. Nolan is mobile, travels a lot, makes money, lives on his own, goes out and does what he wants most of the time. Most of his teammates are in the same position as him, no matter the age. So, it gets tough to see where the line goes. Nolan guesses most people see him as a child anyway; in certain aspects he thinks they probably are right. 

But after a while, it gets more normal to be around Claude by themselves. They talk like two friends, about other sports, the weather, the fact that Christmas is not really a break at all, Claude’s plan of renovating his house, about getting a dog, and so on. Nolan admits he is more of a cat person, really.

“Cats seem evil,” Claude says. He keeps his eyes on the road. Nolan eyes up his side profile. 

“They aren’t, just different from dogs. Super chill and easy to take care of.” If Nolan didn’t travel all the time, he would consider getting a cat. Maybe he can get a catsitter. Claude hums. 

“I’ve never seen a cat show affection. Dogs are, like, direct with that. I feel like I never know what cats think. With dogs – they seem to communicate.”

Nolan snorts. “Oh, cats definitely cuddle. My friend back home had one. She was nice.”

Claude looks at him for a moment. “You miss your friends back home?” The GPS announces that they are getting close.

“Some of them, yeah. We talk, snap really.”

“I never got into that. Wrong generation, I guess.” Claude smiles sort of self-deprecatingly. 

“It’s not everyone’s thing. I wouldn’t use it if my friends didn’t make me. Other social media stuff isn’t my thing really either.” Nolan updates his Instagram at times, when it seems like he has been too quiet. PR keeps telling them they need to hold a presence for marketing, but Nolan counts on his teammates to take care of that. He never really feels like he has something so important to share, and most things in his life he likes to keep private.

“It’s a massive circle jerk in the league, anyway, too,” Claude chuckles. “I miss the times when it wasn’t that important to be following, I don’t know, fucking Tyler Seguin on Instagram.”

Nolan wonders how many friends Claude has around the league, having been active for so long.“He has dogs, though,” he points out instead.

“They are the only reason I follow him. Anything else that he posts, I ignore.” Claude emphasizes gesturing with his hand. 

“I pay attention to Toews,” Nolan says, and Claude looks at him, considering. 

“I’ve noticed. You like him?”

Nolan’s talked about Jonathan Toews a couple of times during his draft and his rookie year. “He’s a good player,” he says, braves himself and adds, “thought he was hot when I was young.” It’s true. Jonny is also ten years older than him (if asked, Nolan will always deny a pattern here).

“Like you are old now, huh?” Claude snorts, promptly ignoring to comment on Nolan’s reveal. 

Nolan feels the need to fidget, a rare occasion, so he adjusts his sleeves just to do something with his hands. “Guess you’re right. I am young.” And Jonny is still hot to him, but he is on another team. It’s kind of a dealbreaker to him now; he likes to be loyal to his team. 

Claude is deafeningly silent after that, but luckily, they pull up to the café. Claude parks on the side of the road. For a late Friday morning it’s quiet, but Nolan guesses it might just be because of the location. Claude might have picked this place out of discretion, wanting to be alone. Philadelphia knows its hockey team, knows its captain. 

Claude holds the door open for him, when they enter. Nolan finds this particularly hilarious, but just nods when he passes him. The café smells like cinnamon sugar. It’s mainly decorated with different wood patterns and materials, and Nolan likes it, sees why Claude also likes it. 

“Hey, go sit down. I’ll go order for us. Anything special I need to know?”

Nolan shrus. “I don’t drink milk or eat eggs.”

“Got it.” Claude goes to the counter. Nolan finds them seats in a booth by the corner. He strips his jacket and sits down, studying the street they are on. It seems like a quiet neighbourhood. It’s pretty. He has to wait a while, until Claude comes back with two steaming mugs. 

“They’ll bring us some stuff in a moment.” He places reaches for Nolan’s jacket, takes it and his own to a coat rack near behind them.

“What did you order?” Nolan takes a mug that Claude is offering. 

“You’ll see. This is just their basic dark-roast, with some oat milk.”

It smells good and looks creamy. “Thanks,” Nolan breathes out. “You take all the rookies and new guys out like this?”

Claude cringes, seems embarrassed for a second. “No, I don’t. I see them plenty, anyway.”

Nolan wants to jump to conclusions but knows better than to do that. “I’m not good for that?” 

Claude smiles softly, shakes his head. “You are something else.”

God, he makes this so easy. Nolan is screwed for sure. Claude looks warm and inviting in this setting. The exact opposite compared to the start of the season. Something changed fast. Nolan would like to ask, but it seems too intruding for now. 

“I told Teeks I’m going with you.” It sounds kind of like a question. Somehow, what they are doing seems like it needs to be kept lowkey, and Nolan can do that. Only – TK hangs out with him all the time, knows him best, knows about him and Claude.

But before Nolan can panic about it further, Claude says: ”It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. He seems like a good guy.”

“He is.”

Claude nods. The evolution that Claude has gone through, seems to go through with Nolan all the time is so overt. Nolan wonders if Claude is aware of how easy it is to interpret the changes in him. It makes Nolan somehow braver, too, feeding off of the energy Claude gives. He can almost name what is happening between them, but it feels too early. He thinks it’s better if Claude takes the lead in that. 

Their food comes. It’s a large plate of fruit, two croissants that don’t look quite average, and two cups full of baked beans and spiced sweet potato casserole. It all smells very good. The waiter leaves with friendly smiles, eyes Claude a moment longer than needed. 

“She likes you,” Nolan says. Claude shakes his head and gestures him to make a plate. Nolan does. 

“Lauren’s nice.” 

“That’s it?” Nolan pushes the plates closer to Claude when he has taken his own.

“That’s it. She knows me. I’m a regular.” He sounds cryptic, and there are many things Nolan could conclude from that. He feels impatient, ready to leap into the future to see where this is exactly going. Life seems too slow at times like this and asking for clarity feels like cheating. Nolan thinks he has struggled with enjoying the moment always, has always been ready for the resolution even before the start. He watches Claude fill a plate. Only after he is done, Nolan starts to eat. 

They eat in a comfortable silence, and the foods is good. Whatever small talk they have is about the food and the coffee.

When it comes time to leave, Nolan says: “Next time, I’m buying.”

Claude seems startled as he is pulling on his jacket. “You don’t have to.”

Nolan snorts, arches his brow. “I want to. After the roadtrip.”

Claude looks at him for a long moment. Nolan tries to convey assurance with his gaze and succeeds, because Claude nods, smiles like he is giving up a fight. 

They chat again during the ride back. Claude wants to know about Nolan’s life during minors, and how it was like leaving home. Claude, in return, tells him about what it was like progressing from a rookie to a captain of a team. He has a whole career’s worth of material to go through, so he seems to pick and choose carefully what he tells Nolan. He mainly focuses on his time with the Flyers in the past couple of years.

“The transition periods were for sure the hardest parts. It took some people to keep me going.” He doesn’t elaborate. Nolan remembers Danny, then. Thinks about losing teammates and friends throughout a hockey career. Thinks about being a captain to the Wheat Kings and moving on from it. Who was there, who isn’t there anymore. Claude looks like he does not want to be asked, expression somewhere in the middle of nostalgia, melancholy – and distance. 

He seems lost in it for a couple of seconds more but says then: “Anyway, Philly is a home now.”

“Do you think it will always be that for you?” Nolan thinks, for himself, it probably will not be, but it’s too soon to speculate the future.

“For hockey? Yeah.”

Claude pulls up to the driveway near Nolan’s building to drop him off. Before Nolan leaves, he asks: “After the roadtrip?” He looks at Claude directly in the eyes, asking for a promise, or something close to it. A surge of bravery makes him reach out his hand, palm open.

Claude looks at it, maybe hesitating, but eventually takes Nolan’s hand and squeezes it. With a soft smile on his face, he says: “After the roadtrip.” 

Nolan counts seconds in his head until he let’s go and exits the car. Claude leaves.

He feels mellow on his way up to his apartment. As much as he and Claude seem to skirt around what exactly is going on, he feels good. Compared to the walls Claude has built around him, Nolan feels oddly open with him. ready to tell if asked about anything. It’s a contrast he isn’t used to, and mostly he is just passive around people, not letting things get unreasonably deep. With Claude, it’s a possibility he is willing to take. He wants to know about him, wants him to know about Nolan, too. After today, he is sure he can’t deny his feelings anymore, as terrifying as that sounds. He thinks Claude is letting his walls crumble, too. 

He walks up to his door in quick strides and opens the door. Instead of solitude, he finds TK lounging on his couch. 

He springs up the moment Nolan opens the door. “Oh, hey Patty! Did you fuck him?”

“I regret giving you a key.”

“Is our captain any good then?”

“Stop. Nothing happened.” Nolan strips his jacket and kicks off his shoes, changing them to a pair of soft slippers. 

“No, no. You need to spill the tea, man. You are literally dating G.”

“No, I’m not. It’s not going to happen.” Somehow Teeks is making him annoyed and angry by pushing the subject. The impatience in him is insufferable. More than that, Nolan was fine living in his bubble with Claude, away from the responsibility of hockey. TK is a wake-up call.

Travis snorts. “I don’t know, seems to me like it’s already happening.”

Nolan leans on his hands on the kitchen counter, meeting TK’s amused gaze. he doesn’t find this funny at all. “Would you be okay with that? Would anyone be okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it? Does it matter?”

Nolan breathes in quickly, voice shaking and unsure suddenly. “It’s our captain, for fuck’s sake. He is thirty. It’s like, I don’t – a fucking teacher-student thing. Why would anyone be okay with it?” Saying these things out loud make them even more real to him. It reminds him again, why he decided never to get involved with a teammate. Nolan can’t fathom how these two worlds can ever meet.

Travis’ expression is – empathetic. 

“Nols, it’s up to you. You are an adult, kind of. I know my opinion doesn’t really mean anything, I mean, I am not anyone or everyone, but if it feels good? You should go for it.”

Nolan wills himself to calm down again. The reality of the situation hits him in waves and then fades out, hits again, and he gets tired of it. He wants to trust TK. “I honestly don’t know if it will happen.” Nolan hopes, but he keeps coming back to uncertainty, when he remembers who they are, where they are.

“You going to meet again?”

Nolan huffs and nods. 

TK smirks. “I think you’ll find out then. I have faith.”

Nolan carefully lets himself have faith, too, if it’s for just now. He has a roadtrip to focus on.


	2. Chapter 2

two.

He sees Claude later then, with the rest of the team as they board the plane to head out. They exchange smiles, but it feels like they have a silent agreement to focus on hockey for the week. The team needs to do their best, take the wins and get the points to progress to higher standings. He sits with TK but listens to audio books and short stories in between podcasts and keeps quiet, focusing his energy on the upcoming week. The entire team seems nervous with anticipation.

Their first game is against Buffalo and it’s amazing. It is what their team is supposed to be, even if they struggle at times. The Sabres are just fumbly enough to make the game roll their way. They end up winning 6-2, and even if Nolan can’t seem to score, he has moments of importance that advance the team. God, he would like to score, though, but he pushes the thought away, glad for his team to be performing like they probably should, on the regular. There is a lot of work to be done, but they take the win.

After that, it’s mainly a shitshow. The roadtrip. It is – bad. They play horribly, with fleeting moments of their usual talent in between massive mistakes, making them either lose, grasping desperately at points in OT, or in regulation getting nothing at all and staying at the bottom of the league. Jets really nothing short of obliterate them. It’s embarrassing, but nothing compared to the lead they have against Calgary until the last two minutes of the game; they let in two goals and lose it a couple of minutes into overtime. That’s that then. Edmonton takes a certain win. People are talking about firing coaches again. It’s an unstable time and the team is playing like shit. No one is really talking to each other normally. There’s nothing really to inspire them to even overcome their sluggishness on ice. Practices are hectic and almost desperate grasps at improvement, weighed by their losses. The ice is – a battlefield they are bound to lose on.

It is tense and awkward; they want to find a reason, and everyone is eager to blame themselves, each other, the management or just pure bad luck. Nolan can’t really feel real resentment in the locker room, though. Rather, it feels like no one knows what to say; at the same time, they fear this is just how bad they are compared to the rest of the league now. (One night, TK laughs bitterly calling them the new Yotes. Nolan does not find it particularly funny.) 

It’s silent on their way in and out of morning skates and team meetings, during dinners and lunches, the in-between times. In hotels, some of them – the young ones anyway – still find their way into someone’s hotel room to play video games and chew the shit but they limit their topics on what happens on the screen. It is usually he and TK’s, which Nolan doesn’t mind. Even if they aren’t explicit in their words, it’s solidarity between them. Someone said the young guys might be on the shakiest ground in terms of trade speculation; the Flyers rely on their veterans. Nolan doesn’t really believe it himself, but there is always the what-if, which he doesn’t want to find out. Mostly, he feels like the team is trying their best to stick together; they hold on to their skill. 

After the Canucks take another massive win over them, their head coach gets fired. The flight home is an unusual one. Nolan hears they get to practice with their new coach on Tuesday. 

It’s a catharsis, feels like the whirlwind is over, Nolan thinks. 

Nolan would have liked to make it to the playoffs again this season, but it seems like a long shot, and he tries to imagine further than that. On their day-off, he sleeps and eats. The roadtrip seems to have lasted a year and Nolan thinks he got older somewhere between Calgary and Vancouver. Monday feels like a Sunday suddenly, quiet and peaceful in the Old Town. (Christmas is right around the corner. There’s a team dinner, for the guys who don’t have family in town. Nolan is going to attend, since TK is going and practically begged him. He doesn’t really care about Christmas that much himself, would prefer to stay home and pass out at nine pm from too much junk food.)

Tuesday rises bright and Nolan is sure he slept for at least two weeks, but it’s only a little past ten am. After breakfast he heads to the rink with TK, who seems content, ready. In the evening, they face Detroit.

The team is buzzing with energy in the locker room, ready to get to work with their new coach, who seems enthusiastic and determined to pull them out of the gutter. The called up a fresh-faced goalie, too. When they get to the ice, their captain is already talking to the coach, skating slow circles and ready to get started. He sees Nolan enter the ice, gives him a nod and focuses on their coach again. It seems like a silent agreement to keep their head in the game right now. They get prepared for the Red Wings. 

The game comes. The puck drops. 

It’s a close call, but they win. 

Nolan feels great after. The Hart kid gets the praise he deserves, and the team leaves the arena in high spirits later that night. They need more of this. Nolan is one of the last ones in the locker room, clearing out for the night. TK is waiting for him, standing around and looking at his phone. Once they exit, they almost run into Claude, clearly on the phone, speaking rapid French to someone with a soft smile on his face. He stalls quickly, reflexes kicking in before they collide. 

“Hey, guys, sorry,” he says to them and circles around them back to the locker room and resuming his French conversation. Nolan is determined to keep walking, but TK keeps peeking back. 

“Your French any good, dude?” He trails behind Nolan, eyeing the locker room. 

“No. Stop being nosy.”

“Dude looked soft as hell.”

Nolan is so close to pulling his arm to make him walk faster. “C’mon, let’s go.” He is not going to give into to TK’s speculation. For all he knows, it’s his family or someone back home. They had a good game; it’s not unusual to call someone. 

Claude’s laugh rings from the locker room and reaches them in the hall. A loud “oh, fuck off” follows.

“Oh, that’s definitely not his mama,” TK notes.

“Let it go.” Nolan’s not a high contact person on the ice or off the ice, but he will push TK if needed.

“You gotta protect your mans.” 

“You are embarrassing.” He trips TK with a quick foot. He stumbles but doesn’t fall. 

Nolan has to admit that he is curious, too, the more he hears Claude’s distant but joyful chatter, but people have friends, and it’s not like he has any claim to know who Claude talks to, even if something in him keeps screaming how it should be him making Claude look so happy.  
Once they get to their building, Nolan makes a promise to come up after he changes into more comfortable clothes, but when he is rummaging through his closet for cotton sweats, his phone rings. 

It’s Claude. Nolan stops what he is doing all together and sits on his bed as he answers. 

“Hey,” Claude says. The background sounds like he is probably in a car on his way home. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Nolan says. His heart beats hard for some reason. 

“All good. Thought I’d call. See how you are doing.”

Nolan wants to laugh. “Yeah, today was good. Back on track,” like an afterthough, he adds then, “thanks. That’s, uh, nice.”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk earlier, but then a friend called, and I got caught up in it.”

“It’s cool.”

It’s silent for a long second or two. “Uh,” Claude begins, “Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? You can say no.”

Nolan snorts. “You going to cook?” 

Claude nothing short of gasps. “Think I can’t?”

“Well, are you? Because driving all the way out there for takeout sounds like a hit job on nature,” he says, voice tight with awkwardness. There’s an odd pressure on the conversation, like Nolan is trying to make it sound like a joke, because otherwise the invitation is almost deafening.

“Yes – come over. Please.”

Nolan swallows. His armpits are sweating, and while he wants to blame late postgame sweats, he knows it’s something else. “It’s a date.” A risky word.

Claude sighs on the other end. “It is. I’ll text you the details.”

A smile slowly grows on Nolan’s face. “Okay.”

Claude’s own smile is audible through the call. “Good night.”

“Yeah. You too.” End call. Nolan takes a deep breath and falls backwards on his bed. A date. The fire burns in his chest and there’s nothing he can do about it now. It baffles Nolan how quickly his insides just turn around when it comes to Claude. It is easy to push it aside during work but. Hockey is not all. He gets up and goes downstairs, but TK doesn’t not answer the door. The bastard, already asleep probably. Nolan looks at the ceiling in the hallway and thinks he can see God looking back at him, holding in her laughter.

***

On Wednesday morning the sky is clear. The moment Nolan wakes up his mind is on the date. He has a full day of nothing before, no practice, no anything at all. He is not anxious, to be exact. Something close to excitement is pulsing in his veins, which makes him feel warm all over. His sheets are sweaty, so he hops into shower before breakfast. When he sits down with a cup of dark roasted coffee and a bowl of cinnamon cereal, he gets a text from TK. It just says “door” and Nolan sighs. He takes his time getting up to open the door just to annoy Teeks.

“The audacity,” he says once he is let in. 

“It’s ten in the morning, dude.”

“I know. I missed you.” TK heads straight to the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee. Nolan knows this just means that TK didn’t bother making his own coffee and figured it would be easier to come downstairs. He doesn’t say anything, though, just gets back to his cereal. TK rummages through his cabinets and gets snacking on anything that catches his eye. Nolan can almost hear how their nutritionist disapproves, whereever the woman lives. But it’s only one day. (Truthfully, it usually is more than just one day, but it’s not going to ruin them.)

“Your coffee is so good.” TK takes his coffee black, even though Nolan’s tried telling him dark roasts are better with milk. 

And. “You have the same exact brand.”

“You make it better.”

Nolan snorts. They fall into a silence, where they both just scroll through social media and news on their phones. TK is the kind of asshole, who watches videos on his phone without headphones. If Nolan was sitting closer, he’d smack him. 

They sit there until noon. 

“Wanna play?” TK asks then and they relocate to the sofa. Call of Duty is familiar stuff to them. They order sandwiches, which TK offers to pay for. While gourging down on his smoked tofu sandwich, Nolan idly wonders what Claude is going to cook for them. He knows about his grilled cheese skills, but that’s like. An old joke by now. Claude’s a grown man. Nolan’s glad he’s not the one cooking. He hasn’t exactly ever been into it. He’s not really into any household duties, which is why hotel life is convenient and makes his life easy.

In a split second he has imagined himself and Claude living together. It’s a mess of things that Nolan hasn’t quite figured out yet. But. He senses peace. It’s a fantasy. Yellow, orange, warmth, a blur really. The skin on the left side of his chest is prickling uncomfortably and he shivers. 

TK glances at him, mouth full of sandwich. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Nolan nods, “I’m going to Claude’s later tonight.”

Travis’ eyes widen and then he smirks. “Oh wow, already?”

Now Nolan makes the effort to reach out and slap TK on the shoulder. “He’s just cooking for me.” 

“I feel like you should prepare for more,” TK keeps going and Nolan feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His mind wanders million miles a second and his face gets hot without his permission. TK laughs and chirps: “Bro, you are turning so red right now.”

“It’s just dinner,” Nolan says again, all the while feeling his face with his palms. This is new, he thinks. He hasn’t really thought about sex, not that he even has to. Claude is not like that. TK is just horny. But there are what-ifs, and – what if. Nolan might want to. 

It is as if Claude could feel them talking about him, because Nolan gets a text then. It says just says “6 pm” and an address, which Nolan vaguely already knows. 

“You are smiling so wide, right now. Wish you could see your face.” 

Nolan spares a glance at TK but focuses on his screen to write back “got it”.

“So soft, you’ll turn into a pillow in a matter of weeks.” Nolan dips his fingers in his water and splashes at TK who ducks, though none of the drops are nowhere near close to hitting him. And instead of protesting, TK just smiles at him. “I’m literally so happy for you,” he says. 

Nolan’s smile grows shy but does not falter. As he sighs, his breath feels shaky. He brushes a loose hair string behind his ear. “Yeah,” he settles on saying. It could be a “me too”. They keep playing and idly chatting until Nolan has to decide what to wear and start heading out. It’s somewhat of a drive to Claude’s. 

TK is not helpful at all, but he tries anyway. 

“You want to look fuckable, right?” he says and holds up the tightest pair of jeans that Nolan owns. TK has also piled the most revealing shirts on Nolan’s bed. 

“You are so pathetic, Teeks.” Nolan rummages his closet for faded blue jeans. A black cotton shirt with them, maybe. 

“It’s in your best interest to get laid. I’m convinced a good dicking will make you fun.”

Nolan throws a shirt at him but doesn’t know if he hits the target or not. “You understand that this is as fun as I get, and you just have to accept it.”

“Can’t fault a man for trying.” Bed strings creek behind him as TK settles down. Nolan changes his clothes. He leaves his hair loose. “You clean up well,” TK comments only slightly lifting his head from the mattress after Nolan is ready. “Too bad you only do it once a year apparently. Now goodbye.” He flops back down.

“No. Get out. I’m leaving.” He strides out of his bedroom, and TK begrudgingly trails behind him. 

“You sure you don’t want me to stay up? Make sure you get home in time, I mean we do have a game tomorrow. Or is Claude dad enough to make sure you don’t stay up too late?” 

Nolan’s eyes widen and he turns on his heels to face TK. “Oh, god, don’t call him a dad. That’s literally not what I want to imagine right now – and no, no! Don’t even say it!” He can practically hear the wheels turning in TK’s head, and that needs to be stopped immediately. The smirk on his face speaks for itself. “Fuck off,” Nolan finishes and pulls on his shoes and takes his coat. TK leaves with him and they part ways in the elevator. 

The drive to Claude’s seems to take forever. There’s traffic, and Nolan tries to pass the time by fucking with Spotify, trying to choose the perfect songs to both calm him down and get him ready for tonight. His hands are sweating and wiping them on his jeans doesn’t help. Yet it’s nervousness that does not bother him. It’s borderline excitement, because it’s new and Claude feels new, even if they’ve known each other for a year now. His feelings don’t match the gray weather outside and it’s fitting. Desensationalizing. It’s just a Wednesday.

It’s just a Wednesday. Dinner at Claude’s.

In the end Nolan decides to put just one song on repeat and tunes out his thoughts. Passes by a clean up scene of a car accident. Four cars. He switches lanes.

Claude’s house is more like a villa. It looks prestigious and intimitading to Nolan, who is carefully making his way up the driveway. His legs feel something close to jelly and he thinks, if put on skates right now, he wouldn’t be able to take a stride. Every step closer makes his palms sweat more. He fears he might ruin his shirt, so he counts his breaths to calm down. Nolan is 20. Claude is 30. It feels like he needs to confess to – he doesn’t know, a priest? Nolan huffs a laugh by himself. He must look ridiculous, snailing his way toward the door. He hopes Claude is not watching from a window somewhere. He already feels embarrassed enough, getting nervous like this, thinking everyone and anyone can see him and judge him. God, he was supposed to be over this already. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself. 

Staring at the door just a few steps ahead, he determinedly tries to shake everyone else off his shoulders and strides forward. He rings the bell and it takes a few seconds for Claude to answer. And the moment he does, the moment they meet eyes and come face to face, Nolan’s false confidence falters immediately and promptly forgets any manners he has and just asks, “can I use your bathroom?” Which. Yeah. Embarrassing. 

Claude looks perplexed but just nods.“Yeah, of course. Come in. It’s two doors down the hall, to the left.” Nolan thanks him and strides onwards again. He closes the door behind him and makes sure twice that it’s locked. Then he sits down on the floor so fast it’s like something violently drags him there.

“What the fuck,” he says. It’s not that he feels bad. He feels the exact opposite of it. The moment Claude opened the door, Nolan found himself wanting. He looked so good in dark jeans and a well-fitted shirt, it almost hurt to look at him. 

Everyone else seem to be hanging on to the hem of Nolan’s shirt, and it keeps straining and strangling his neck, and he really needs to call his mom. 

She answers quickly with a “hi baby”, and Nolan smiles. Fleetingly he feels like sobbing and taking his time to talk to his mom and figure this out, but this is not the right time for it. But he has to tell someone who has something valuable to say. 

“Hey mom, listen I’m in a hurry but –”

“Hey, what’s going on? You don’t sound right.”

“No, I’m good. Better than good, maybe, but listen,” he hesitates, trying to find the words.

“Go on?” his mom sounds so sweet, genuinely worried. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know that right?”

Right. “I’m on a date with Claude Giroux?” he says it kind of like a question, and for a while his mom is quiet on the other end. 

Then, “Claude Gir – your captain? Claude?”

“Yeah.”

His mom is silent again for a small moment. 

Nolan decides to continue. “Yeah. We – have been seeing each other, I think.”

“You think? You are not sure? Honey –”

He sighs deeply. “No, I’m sure, but like, we have not defined anything. I just – like him.”

His mother hums, not unkindly, just contemplatively. “You like him. I see. He is older, you know that.”

“I know that. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. But he is – you know, he is – good. Just good,” Nolan says. 

His mother huffs. “Does he like you?”

“We really haven’t gotten to that part yet, mom. But I think he might. He’s being very careful.”

“I hope he is,” his mom says, sounding almost exasperated. “I’m going to be honest with you now, okay?” Nolan hums an agreement. “It is surely not normal, the two of you in that sense, which makes me worried.” God, his mom sounds gentle, which Nolan is grateful for. “But the little that I know him, I’m not against it.”

Nolan sighs in deep relief. “That’s all I ask. I just needed to tell someone. Well, TK knows but you know he’s not helpful.”

His mom laughs. “That boy is a rascal,” a pause, “Nolan, I need you to take care of yourself, though. Don’t rush and take your time and space.”

“Yes, mom.”

“I trust you to recognize and know when things aren’t good, and if they are not, go home and tell me,” his mom says sternly. Nolan smiles, grateful for the support. “Just in case.”

“Yeah, okay,” Nolan says, “thank you.”

“I’m here for you, sweetie.” They end the call. Nolan feels a hundred pounds lighter and no one is tugging on the hem of his shirt anymore.

Then he remembers that he is sitting on the floor of Claude’s bathroom, one of his bathrooms probably. He stares at the soft colors on the walls and decorations. He wishes he would have made a more appealing entrance. His been sitting here a while, which is embarrassing for a first real date, but what’s done is done, he guesses. Nolan stands up and straightens his clothes. 

He wanders out and down the hall coming to kitchen almost immediately and finds Claude there. He is clearly making some last-minute preparations, and he looks somehow better than before. What Nolan didn’t notice in his hurry to hide was that the sleeves of his shirt have been rolled up and a couple of the top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, which probably makes him the literal definition of sex appeal. Nolan lets himself watch the muscles of his shoulders work before making himself known.

“Hey,” Nolan says, and it comes out way too carefully. Claude turns and his gaze scatters quickly all over Nolan, head to toe.

“Hey, are you ok?” He approaches Nolan. His legs look good in the jeans. Nolan cannot help but stare again. He has seen those legs bare. This is not a locker room. Nolan feels different. 

“Yeah, just a long trip out here,” Nolan says it to Claude’s legs mainly but lifts his gaze and pushes his hair back. Claude’s eyes follow the movement. “What are you making?”

Claude flushes and snorts. “I’m not like a chef or anything, so really it’s pretty simple. Just some deep-dish pizza.”

“Pizza’s good,” Nolan says.

“Yeah, hoped so.” Then it’s awkward for a moment. Neither of them really knows what to say, so instead they just stare at each other. It becomes absurdly funny then and Nolan huffs a laugh at the same time as Claude sighs and hesitates. “Uh, was the traffic bad? I know this is kind of far away.”

“It was ok, went fast really.” If asked in detail, Nolan would not remember anything that happened during the drive. He is not even sure what song he played on repeat. “This is an upgrade,” he says and gestures to the general area. 

Claude makes a face. “Lot more work than living in a condo, to be honest,” his eyes trace the ceiling. “The renovations are a pain in the ass. The upstairs bathroom is next on the list. But it looks great.”

Nolan agrees. From the kitchen only, Nolan can tell that this is one of those long-term homes. He wonders how many bedrooms there are. Momentarily, he is glad that Claude is not into those millionaire homes that media writes about. He remembers seeing pictures of Selänne’s house – well, a mansion really – and thinking that a house that big is just too fucking big.

“Wanna help me set the table?” Claude asks then, and Nolan obviously can’t say know, so he shrugs off his coat and lets Claude lead the way. 

When they settle down, their knees touch under the table. The touch feels hot, and for a small moment Nolan wonders if it is going to burn a hole in his jeans. When they eat, Claude makes an ironic comment on his cooking skills, because the meal is just pizza – cheese mainly. Looking at his kind of embarrassed smile, Nolan decides that Claude can make him food anytime he wants.

They end up sitting there long after the food’s gone, drinking a weird ginger soda, that got sent to Claude as a housewarming gift by some local company. As they talk, their knees keep touching. Claude is enthusiastically telling him about a shelter he visited not too long ago; they apparently house mainly pitbulls because: “People are so shitty. They abandon them because they don’t know how to keep dogs.” Nolan gladly listens. Claude apparently donated to them, trying to help keep them running. Nolan makes a note of finding out how to donate, too. 

“But I don’t wanna talk about badly kept pets. That’s sad.” Claude sighs. He fidgets and piles their dishes into a neat pile. 

“What do you want to talk about then?” 

Claude huffs a laugh, shrugs. “You? I don’t know.”

Rolling his eyes, Nolan snorts. “What a line. What do you want to know?”

“Got any Christmas plans?”

Nolan cringes. “I don’t really like Christmas. It’s good to have some downtime.” 

Claude shakes his head. “How do you not like Christmas? It’s the best time of the year.”

“It’s just awkward. Too hyped. I don’t know. Like your relatives give you stuff you don’t really want and then you have to act like you are so grateful.”

“True. But being with family is great, though.”

Nolan nods. “I’d like to see my mom. This year we don’t have time for that, though.”

“Are you going to the team thing?” There might be something close to hope in Claude’s eyes, but Nolan can’t really tell. 

“Told TK I was going to go with him. So yeah.”

Claude smiles then. “Cool. The food’s going to be great.” He mentions the caterer, which is apparently one of the more respectable ones in Philly. 

Claude’s going, then, Nolan notes. The team dinner does not seem so dreadful after all.

“Hold on,” Claude says then and gets up. He rummages through his freezer and pulls out a tub of “Ben and Jerry’s. For dessert. I love this stuff.” He fetches spoons next. 

Nolan feels his cheek pull. “Can’t believe you didn’t make your own. This is cheating.”

Claude sits down, this time next to Nolan. “I’m working my ass off for your dinner and this is the thanks I get, wow.”

Nolan grabs the tub and open it. “Spoon, please.” Claude does as commanded, and Nolan digs into the freezer cold ice cream. 

“You are going to bend the spoon,” Claude says.

Nolan digs harder but manages to only get out a small piece of cookie dough and vanilla ice cream. It’s sickeningly sweet and Nolan loves it. He tries again but his spoon gets stuck in the ice cream, standing upright and immovable. 

“The stuff is impenetrable before it melts a little. We can wait.” Claude tries grabbing the tub from him, but Nolan moves it away just a little, making him lean forward into Nolan’s space. He smells like cologne. Mint and spices. 

“I don’t want to wait.” He studies Claude, who is still leaning forward despite giving up the effort of trying to get at the ice cream. He looks at Nolan. It would be so easy to just – 

Nolan leans in. 

His first thought is that Claude’s beard is scratchy against his skin. It’s just a press of lips because neither of them moves, until Nolan lets go of the tub completely and turns just a little to face Claude better. The movement makes them break apart but Claude leans in again. He grabs at Nolan’s side just as Nolan’s hand trails to his neck. They kiss for a while, until they come to a natural halt, and Nolan lets his hand fall. Claude still holds on to him, though. 

“I didn’t really plan on that tonight,” Claude says.

“What did you plan?”

Claude shrugs. His hand moves just slightly along Nolan’s side and it sends a shiver through his spine. “I don’t know. I just wanted to get to know you more before. Tell you stuff about me. Let you know what’s going on, before anything happens.” 

Nolan tilts his head. “I’m sorry, I guess?” he says. 

Claude laughs. “Shit, no, that’s not what I mean. I liked that, but I just want you to be comfortable.”

Nolan snorts. “You think I would do that if I was uncomfortable?” 

Claude makes a face. “I guess not.”

“I’ve thought about this. Extensively.”

This seems to surprise Claude. His eyes widen. “Oh?”

Nolan just nods. 

“I’ve thought about it, too.”

Nolan thinks on that, thinks of the start of the season and Claude’s strange behavior. Something does not seem right there, but he isn’t one for confrontation, when all he really wants to do is kiss Claude again. Claude’s hand is still trailing his side. Kissing comes easy. It makes warmth spread all throughout his body and he is grateful that he isn’t a literal teenager anymore. The fifteen-year-old him used to carefully dream about situations like this, but somehow reality beats fantasy easily. The fifteen-year-old him never thought about Claude Giroux in those situations, but the now him seems to only have room for him. 

They kiss long enough, that Claude starts to pull him even closer and Nolan goes along with it, which makes him move from his seat. It startles him and they come to a pause again. Nolan feels like saying something sappy, like “fuck, I like that”, but he keeps the thought to himself. The flush he surely has on his face probably speaks for itself. 

“Oh, shit,” Claude says then and pulls back. 

“Hm?” 

Claude reaches forward and pulls the ice cream tub towards himself. “We got ourselves some soup.” He picks up the sunken spoon from the ice cream, creaming his fingertips while at it. “Sorry.”

Nolan thinks about something stupid like licking his fingers but decides against it. Instead he takes the messy spoon from Claude and licks it. Claude’s eyes follow the movement. “Tastes fine still,” he says and Claude huffs. 

“Yeah, bet it does.” 

Nolan offers him the half-licked spoon. Claude hesitates only for a moment but licks it, too. He keeps his eyes on Nolan as he hums an agreement. Nolan’s heart is beating heavily, blood running through his veins. 

They leave it at that, though, and soon after, Nolan leaves. They have a game tomorrow against Nashville, and they are expected at the rink bright and early. Claude walks Nolan to his car. It’s a quiet moment before Nolan gets in, as they look at each other. Nolan refuses the moment to stretch too long, until neither of them knows what to say, so he pulls Claude in by his shirt for one last peck of lips. 

“’Til next time?” he asks and Nolan nods.

***

He should have known that TK would be in his apartment. “No” is not a part of his vocabulary. So, what he gets once he steps into his home is a million questions, all in different forms, about what happened.

“You should come next time and see for yourself, dude.”

TK snorts. “Kinky. Not my jam, but thanks. Now deets.”

“Go away.” Nolan pushes past him to grab a water from the fridge. TK trails after him obviously. 

“You have to give me something man. I’m literally dying.”

“Maybe you should get a girlfriend, bro.”

TK lets out a frustrated sigh. “I am destined to be a free spirit,” he laments, “so you have to let me live through you. Please.”

Nolan stares at him. He lets the quiet stretch, and TK squirms under his gaze. “I am your friend,” he says as a last resort. 

“It was a date, that’s it.”

TK audibly sighs and rolls his eyes. “Obviously! Did you confess your love?”

“I’m not in love with him.”

TK snorts. “You just wait. You’ll be dreaming of ginger for the rest of your life.”

“Doubt that.” Nolan takes a long sip of his water. TK squints his eyes at him, thinking. 

“You made out.”

The sip goes on. A laborious swallow. “How would you know that?” He is careful to keep his tone neutral. 

“Oh my god, you did! I can see it on your face. Wow, you are in deep.”

Then it becomes too hard to keep a straight face. Nolan drops his gaze as he thinks about the night. “It was great,” he almost whispers. 

“Can’t believe you are going to lose your virginity soon.”

It’s an instinct to throw the bottle at him. TK ducks easily and instead the water makes a mess on the floor. 

“He will be at the Christmas dinner.” Nolan has a hard time keeping his smile contained. TK is going to have way too much chirping material after this. Nolan is going to suffer a lifetime.

“Oh, so now you are excited about it, you fucking Grinch. I knew that already,” TK says and sneers at him, “we talked about it a while back. Would have told you, too, had I known you had the hots for our captain.”

“I haven’t exactly been tuned into who he tells stuff to. I wasn’t one of them, so.” He shrugs. Things really have turned a full 180 degrees.

TK nods his head pondering. “Claude is so fucking weird,” he says decisively. Nolan snorts. 

“I also told my mom.”

TK’s brow furrows. “She okay with it?”

Nolan nods slowly. “For now, at least.”

They move to the living room and this time TK sits close to him, instead of retreating to his own corner of the couch. Nolan is grateful for the quiet support.

“Can’t believe I’m going to have to murder our captain if something goes wrong.”

It surprises Nolan in its sincerety, and he barks a laugh.

“I’m serious, Patty. You are my boy. I’m going to look out for you.”

“Thanks, man, but I think we can talk it out like adults.” Nolan has not dared to imagine what exactly would happen if something does actually go wrong, so he doesn’t know how he would handle it, how Claude would handle it.

“I had no idea he went for dudes,” TK says then. 

“Yeah, well. Some people learn to hide that pretty well, I guess.”

TK hums. “I really didn’t know about you either.”

Nolan snorts. “I am one of those people, uh huh.”

“How did Claude know though?”

Nolan thinks on this. He shrugs. “Took a chance, I guess.”

“So, you didn’t send out like, vibes or some shit?”

Nolan laughs long. “What fucking vibes? Gay signals?”

Teeks makes a face. “Well, I don’t know! I don’t exactly have to hide so – I don’t know. What if you hadn’t been open to it?”

“It’s not like we jumped into this. He has been suspiciously careful, like extremely cautious. And I slipped in some things, like, to make him realize that I’m not running away.” 

TK visibly ponders this and then nods. “Cool.” It earns him a smack and TK oofs. “You are so violent.”

“Someone needs to keep you in line.”

TK ends up spending the night on the couch. Nolan will sprinkle salt in his morning coffee, for sure.

***

They keep up with the separating work and this thing between them, so Thursday is game-oriented. It doesn’t keep TK from joking about it on their way to morning skate and later for the game at the arena, but Nolan mainly tunes them out. If Travis wants to imagine them making out in front of the whole team – albeit weird – he can. He and Claude keep texting at times, though, after or before the games. It’s just regular stuff, like saying good morning, asking a thing or two, or sending funny things to each other. Some of it is definitely flirting, even if it’s heavily disguised as joking, but that’s half the fun, right?

Playing at home always feels good, and Tuesday’s win against Detroit has the team in higher spirits. The game ends up being – not a walk in the park. It’s a low scoring night, it seems, and they struggle on the ice. Nashville is not doing their best either, and it ends up tipping the scales in favor of Philadelphia. They win 2-1. That’s why Friday is full of practice and getting ready for the game on Saturday, before they head out to face the Rangers on Sunday. They lose to the Jackets at home, but they beat Rangers in a shootout. 

It’s their last game before the break and they have one more practice on Monday morning before some of them go see their families. 

The team dinner is planned for the 25th. On the day before, Nolan goes shopping with TK for a new suit for Spring. TK has a habit of first looking at the most outrageous options before settling for his usual stuff. They have some guidelines for game day suits, but they are not too strict, which is why TK chooses a tie that Nolan wouldn’t ever even touch. 

In the middle of hoarding snacks for the break, Nolan gets a text from Claude. It’s a picture of a giant and elaborately decorated Christmas tree in his living room. Then comes another that just says “best time of the year” and Nolan snorts. 

“Stop flirting with your boyfriend and help me,” TK commands hands full of bags. 

“Not my boyfriend,” Nolan answers out of reflex and sends out a monkey emoji as a response. TK promptly dumps most of the bags in his hands. He raises his eyebrows at Nolan. “He is not.”

“He will be,” TK says and breezes past him to the ice cream isles. Nolan follows. 

He wonders about the team dinner. Christmas has a habit of having a certain feeling. Like Valentine’s Day does, or Thanksgiving. New Year’s Eve is probably the worst of them all. It will also be the first non-work team event with both him and Claude present, so he doesn’t really know what to expect. Nolan talks to TK about Claude, not extensively, but they do talk about him. Does Claude talk about him? If he does, to who? Separating work and free time comes easy when it comes to games. This is unfamiliar territory, which is why uncertainty dwells like dread somewhere in his stomach. 

His phone vibrates when they are checking out. All it says is: “tomorrow!” Nolan’s heart skips a beat, maybe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know what I'm writing? No. Will that stop me? Absolutely not. 
> 
> Thank u for kudos and comments. Also thanks for giving this weird ass pairing a chance.


End file.
